


Once Bitten

by Kallimax



Category: Tablestory: Nocturne (Web Series)
Genre: Blood Drinking, F/F, Gen, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 08:26:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21133688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kallimax/pseuds/Kallimax
Summary: Emma shouldn’t be close to any of them, not with such a tenuous hold on her hunger. And the fact she knew exactly how good Izzy’s blood tasted didn’t help in any way at all.





	Once Bitten

**Author's Note:**

> Standard "Nocturne" content warning applies. Canon-divergent (but with some spoilers) starting around episode 16.

Emma scratched at her arm for what had to be the twentieth time in the past ten minutes. The itching wouldn’t stop. She probably had fleas. She’d been a dog - a hound, whatever - for maybe five fucking hours, and she already had fleas.

Every time she thought this whole fucked up series of events couldn’t get worse, it - well, it did - and now, here they were in the middle of nowhere, and she’d obviously contracted fleas from the forest or Briar’s shitty old cabin or whatever.

The itching started up her neck, and Emma scratched there, too, as she glared at Briar. The others were huddled together in the living room, talking in casual, hushed voices like this whole thing wasn’t fucked up beyond belief.

Emma wanted to scream at them, to get it through their thick skulls that she was a dog now, that she constantly wanted blood, that she could never go back to the hospital, that she definitely had fleas, for fuck’s sake. But every time she yelled, they either yelled back or looked at her with such mistrust in their eyes she couldn’t stand it.

And really, she had to get out of this house.

Emma scratched at her arm again. It was crushing in here. She didn’t know why the others didn’t feel it - probably another hound thing, oh joy - but Emma knew there was something here, pressing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe, stifling her.

She let out a frustrated growl that she hoped to god hadn’t sounded as doglike to the others as it had to her. But judging by the sudden silence and the way five pairs of eyes snapped to look at her, it had sounded exactly as bad as she feared.

“I’m going outside,” she choked out past the stale air constricting her lungs and stalked over to the door and out before anyone could object. Well, they were objecting. She could hear their voices, but she didn’t care. 

She scratched at her head. She had to get away.

It was less than two minutes before she was followed. 

Emma hadn’t gone far, just to the edge of the porch, knowing there were a lot of logical arguments to be made about the benefits of sticking together, and besides, there were the five million bugs to contend with if she went much farther. 

But at least the crisp, clean forest air didn’t feel like an anchor dragging her further and further away from anything resembling reality.

“What’s wrong, puppy?”

Emma hadn’t expected them to send Izzy. She figured Briar, Trick, maybe even Brian - but not Izzy. She scratched at her arm again. She needed to stop doing that, the skin raw and raised under her nails. But she itched so much, all over. Stupid fleas.

“Sorry,” Izzy said. “Emma. I brought you some food.” She held out the tumbler full of blood and whatever raw parts Brian had pulled out of nowhere and shook it gently.

Emma didn’t know what she should be more worried about: the fact she’d barely registered Izzy calling her “puppy” or the hunger that flared to life in her stomach at the sight of the smoothie. She reached out and snatched the tumbler from Izzy’s hand.

“Thank you,” she muttered before shoving the straw in her mouth. God, blood had no right to taste so damn good.

“Better?” Izzy asked.

Emma shrugged and scratched idly at her arm again. 

The blood did help, but she didn’t want to say it, didn’t need to remind everyone yet again how much of a freak she was now, especially Izzy, who had taken all of this in stride and was probably the most put-together person here. Emma envied that.

Izzy stepped forward, and Emma immediately flinched back. She shouldn’t be close to any of them, not with such a tenuous hold on her hunger. And the fact she knew exactly how good Izzy’s blood tasted didn’t help in any way at all.

Thankfully, Izzy didn’t come any closer, instead moving so she stood by the railing, looking out on the yard.

Emma took a long, hard pull of her smoothie. What was happening to her? What had she done to deserve this? She huffed softly, and, when Izzy said nothing, dropped to the porch, sprawling there.

It was finally quiet. No academic interest from Theo, no smug jokes from Trick, no doom and gloom from Brian, and no snide comments from Briar, the ones that made her want to snap back - literally. 

Emma could hear herself think.

Almost immediately, it was too much, the inside of her own head too loud. Instinct warred against logic warred against anger, and she was lost in the jumbled mess, all the thoughts vying for control, screaming at her to pay attention.

“I think I have fleas,” Emma blurted, desperate to get some of the thoughts, any of them, out of her head. “Guess I really must be a dog now.”

She forced a laugh then clamped down on her straw as more thoughts flooded in, ones she didn’t want to voice, shouldn’t voice, the hungry ones, the angry ones, the ones that told her she was better than everyone here and she should cut and run. She’d be fine on her own.

That part of Emma’s brain, which she was trying very hard to forget about right now, tracked Izzy’s every movement, as she settled in next to Emma on the porch.

Hunter’s instincts - Emma wanted to run, wanted to chase Izzy until she couldn’t move any more, until she fell to her knees, and Emma, Emma could pounce, rip into the soft skin of her neck, feel the blood gush down her throat, over her face, so good.

Emma shook her head hard, trying to clear her mind. It only sort of worked. She hated how much she still wanted it, craved it, especially with Izzy there, saying her name.

“What?” she growled. She could hear the hound again, and part of her, more than she wanted to admit, didn’t care.

Izzy looked more than a little startled by her response, and it was just another reminder that she was different, that she was this thing now, because who would have been scared of tiny, only occasionally blood-drinking Emma?

“I can go back inside, if you want,” Izzy said. “It’s up to you. If you’d rather be alone.”

The word “alone” struck her. God, no, Emma didn’t want that. Without the blood - and there was never enough - she felt so hollow, so empty inside. She’d come out here craving space, but space only meant more room to fill.

“Please no.” It sounded pathetic to her own ears, and she turned away as her eyes welled up with sudden tears. Not as independent as you thought, huh?

“Okay,” Izzy said. “Okay. It’s all right. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Emma nodded, swiped a hand through the wetness on her face. She hated being like this, so vulnerable in front of other people, hated that it was the hound thing - and these stupid fleas - that had made her this way.

“God,” she exclaimed, slamming the tumbler down on the porch with a satisfying crack. “Everything’s so fucked up, isn’t it? I mean, I’m a dog. I want to eat everyone’s faces. I probably have fleas. And that’s not even all the time stuff and the shadows - did we tell you about the shadows? We had shadows following us around for forever, but not, like, in the normal way.

“Oh, and,” Emma dropped her voice low, to give some semblance that she listened to anything the professor said. “Jim. Do you know about him? He wants to kill me or something maybe.”

Emma sighed, flung herself back until she was lying on the porch. “Maybe that would be for the best,” she muttered.

“No,” Izzy said. “Emma, no.” She placed a hand on Emma’s knee, and Emma wanted to object, but she was just so tired all of a sudden. It was all exhausting.

“Look at me.”

Emma didn’t want to. She was tired and hungry again, damn it, and every time she looked at Izzy, she remembered blood, glorious and delicious, streaked across her face.

“Emma, look at me.”

This time, Izzy’s tone brooked no argument, and Emma obeyed before she had a chance to question it.

“You are good, and you are strong, and we’re going to get through this just fine,” Izzy said. She sounded sure as anything, and Emma loved her for it. That was what she needed right now: that stability, that surety.

Emma couldn’t help it. She laughed, more out of relief than anything. This was all absurd, but god, maybe if Izzy thought they could, they could fix it.

And once Emma started laughing, she couldn’t stop, as if something had broken inside her but maybe in a good way for once. Deep, breath-taking belly laughter escaped - until tears were streaming down her face, her stomach cramping, her wide grin stretching her mouth too far.

She heard Izzy laughing, too, and it only made her laugh harder.

Emma squirmed onto her side until she was facing Izzy, and even through her wet eyes, she could make out the other woman lying next to her on the porch in the midst of a fit of giggles. 

Izzy was pretty all the time, but god, she was gorgeous when she laughed, all sparkly eyes and grinning teeth. 

It felt good, vital, this moment, and Emma wanted to hold onto it forever. She wondered if she could keep this memory instead of the one with the blood staining Izzy’s cheek. 

“I needed this,” Emma said, when she’d finally stopped laughing long enough to speak.

“I think,” Izzy said, “I needed it, too.” She still sounded out of breath from the laughing, and it made Emma grin. She fought to suppress the Hunter deep inside, who also grinned at Izzy’s breathlessness but for decidedly more devious reasons. 

“Who knew the cure for a bunch of weird shit happening was just laughing it off? Never told us that at the hospital.”

Suddenly, Izzy reached forward, her hand coming to rest on Emma’s cheek. Emma flinched for a second, but it felt too good to move. When everything else was shit, why deny herself this?

“Do you see what I mean?” Izzy said, her thumb brushing gently against Emma’s skin. “Do you think any of them could have done this? Made it through everything you’ve been through so far and come out laughing? You’re strong as hell, Emma.”

Emma swallowed hard, as Izzy’s words gripped her, filled her chest. The air around her felt heavy again but not crushing like the cabin had been. This felt good, enough pressure to ground but not overwhelm, a soft blanket.

She didn’t think of herself as strong often. Most days she felt like she was barely holding it together, and it hadn’t exactly gotten easier lately. Tears threatened to well up again, which wasn’t fair because her eyes were still wet from the laughter. 

“Thank you,” she breathed.

Izzy brushed her cheek, and Emma closed her eyes, soaking in the first good moment in she couldn’t remember how long. She felt calmer, lighter - and thank god - less itchy. 

Another chuckle escaped. Maybe she didn’t have fleas after all. Maybe she was just being a fucking idiot.

“What’s so funny now?” Izzy asked, and Emma could hear the amusement, the joy in her voice. She filed it away as another part of this to remember.

“Nothing, just me,” Emma said. She opened her eyes to pursed lips and a furrowed brow, and god, she did not want to see Izzy frown, not now. So, she pushed on. “I’ve been losing my fucking mind over this, and it’s just made everything worse.” She laughed again. “I don’t think I have fleas.”

Izzy laughed, too. “Well, that’s good to hear,” she said. “And it’s good you recognize the stress you’ve been putting yourself under.” She stroked Emma’s cheek again. “It’s been bad enough lately without you adding to it.”

Emma’s stomach clenched, as the calming atmosphere evaporated around her. She tried to tell herself that Izzy clearly hadn’t meant anything by it, that Izzy had just promised, promised, that Emma was good and fine and strong. 

But the words, the suggestion that maybe she was the problem, still stung.

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you have blood pouring out of your eyes all the time,” she snapped, sitting up and moving away from Izzy. “When you’re so goddamn hungry.” 

She flailed her arms about, blindly searching for her smoothie. Her hand hit something wet and sticky and sharp. She’d broken the tumbler. 

Emma nearly screamed in frustration, knocking the bottle off the porch and watching it roll away in the dirt.

“Emma. Emma.” Izzy sat up, moved far too close for comfort, too close when Emma felt this way, this angry, this hungry. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Do you want some more? I can get you some more.”

Emma growled, and this time, it felt good. This time, she got to see Izzy flinch. She reached out, wrapping her hands tightly around Izzy’s upper arms.

As she did, the Hunter part of her brain supplied the memory of Izzy with a broken nose and Emma’s fingers digging into the wound, making her scream. 

The other part of her brain, the part that had tried so hard to overwrite blood with laughter, interjected, but it all got twisted together until Emma was laughing alongside the Izzy in her mind’s eye, as she leaned over her, tearing into her flesh.

“I want you,” Emma said, and this, too, came out as a growl. Her fingers gripped tighter. “I want to eat you. I can smell it already, all that copper.” Her laughter bordered on manic, as she took a deep breath, luxuriating in the scent of blood, Izzy’s blood.

Neither the Hunter nor Emma expected Izzy to lean closer. Prey ran, and she chased - it didn’t happen like this. They were almost eye-to-eye now. Part of Emma, however small, wanted to back down, but she knew the Hunter never would.

“And what if I want to be eaten?”

Emma felt like she’d been punched. Her grip on Izzy’s arms loosened, and she let out a startled bark of laughter. But the Hunter recovered quickly, taking over.

“Well, shit,” she said. “What are we waiting for?” She grinned, big and toothy, and reached up toward Izzy’s face.

Izzy smiled back but grabbed Emma’s hand before she got anywhere near her goal. She shook her head softly.

“Down, puppy,” she murmured. “You know I don’t mean it like that.”

Emma whined, the wind knocked from her sails. It wasn’t fair. “But I’m so hungry. I’ll only take a little bit, I promise. Please.” The Hunter wouldn’t agree, but Emma would take whatever blood she could get, especially now, especially from Izzy.

Izzy cupped Emma’s chin. “I told you I’d get you everything you needed,” she said. “And I will. But I need you to be strong. I need you to be a good girl. Can you do that?”

The words “good girl” sunk their way into Emma’s soul. They overtook the hunger. They calmed the Hunter. And with crystalline clarity, she knew it was all she had ever wanted: to be Izzy’s good girl.

She nodded vigorously. “I can do that. I can.”

Izzy smiled and leaned in, softly brushing her lips against Emma's cheek. “I know you can. You’re so good, so strong. You know what you need, so take it.”

Emma’s head snapped toward the cabin door. She only had to concentrate a little, and she could pick out the four different heartbeats, the four different scents.

Izzy grasped her chin tightly, forced Emma’s head away from the door and toward the woods. “Not them. You know that.” She gestured at the trees. “What do you smell out there?”

Emma closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying hard not to focus on the cabin and the people who would be incredibly easy prey inside.

“Rabbits,” she breathed. “Deer.” There was another scent she couldn’t identify, maybe more than one. She frowned. “Something else.” The Hunter wanted to chase the “something” down, make it regret its existence, but she was just so hungry. Better eat, then explore.

Izzy let go of her chin. “Go on, sweetheart,” she said. “Go eat. We’ll talk when you get back.”

Emma opened her eyes, rivulets of blood starting to slide down her cheeks. “Yes, ma’am.”

Izzy grimaced, shook a hand in front of her in vague disapproval. “That’s one of the things we’ll talk about. How this” - she gestured between the two of them - “is going to go.”

Emma nodded jerkily before she stood up and shook her limbs loose. It wouldn’t help with the transition, which she was pretty sure would always fucking hurt like hell, but it made her feel better. 

At least, it went faster with more practice. It hardly took any time at all before an oversized pit bull mix stood before Izzy.

Izzy’s eyes glowed with fascination, and she grinned at Emma, reaching out to stroke her head. “Puppy,” she said. “What a good girl.”

Emma wagged her stumpy tail as best she could then turned and leaped off the porch, racing toward the woods. The last thing Izzy said - “good girl” - echoed in Emma’s head. She vowed to be only the best for Izzy, to be Izzy’s good girl.

Even as she began the search for something to kill.


End file.
